


Send The Signal

by HighVelocity



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighVelocity/pseuds/HighVelocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trespasser DLC spoilers. Ziva Trevelyan finds she's running out of time. Cullen Rutherford steals what little time he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Send The Signal

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone asks me what I thought of the Trespasser DLC, I'm just going to respond with a pterodactyl screech.

  
It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

The old, familiar pain lanced into her bones and ripped at her chest, clamping around her heart, wringing a sharp cry from her throat.

Ziva Trevelyan, Lady Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, head of the Inquisition - staggered, momentarily overwhelmed. She clutched at the makeshift war table to steady herself. For a brief second, it took her back to that first dim awakening, where her knees froze with cold and her wrists lay locked in her lap. Kneeling, head swimming, scared and defenceless, armoured figures circling her while she wracked her brains and insisted on her innocence.

Now, one of those two figures stood attentively before her, eyes sharp and mind already aflame with names and paths to pursue, the better to aid her Inquisitor.

Ziva managed to raise her hand. She stared dully at the slash of green, disbelieving. The poisonous colour of it clashed with the rich opulence of the Winter Palace and all its gilded lights.

No, not the first in her life, but certainly the first of something much worse to come, she was suddenly sure. The pain licked past her wrist and into her elbow, setting it on fire, while muscles in her forearm spasmed uncontrollably. It left her pale and gasping while she gritted her teeth and steeled herself, fingers clamping around her wrist as though that could stop the pulse that threatened to flay her flesh off her bones from the inside out.

_And no Solas to save you this time, Ziva. He's gone._

On the other side of the table, dressed in their officious best, her advisors. Her beloved advisors. Josie, whose face was an open book by design. Leliana, whose gentle amusement had dimmed into nothingness, leaving her soft smile devoid of emotion.

She lifted her head reluctantly, gold eyes meeting gold.

Cullen.

_Oh, dear heart._

Companion of two years. Husband of only a few precious days. Hours. And here she stood, separated from them not just physically, by the table, but in every other way, the mark rearing its wretched head once more.

Ziva dropped her head again, straightening. She had hid nothing from them thus far - and she would not do so now.

"The Mark," she sighed. Shoulders back, spine rigid, chin up. She stood at attention, in a way that would've made any general proud. "It - it's hurting. Again. Worse."

In the first flash of emotion, Cullen looked like a stricken halla as he rounded the table, ahead of Josephine and Leliana. As she turned to meet him, his hands rose to cup her face tenderly, eyes wracked with pain and denial, forehead pressed to hers in desperation.

 _Yes_ , she thought dimly, searching their amber depths, answering all his unvoiced questions. _Yes, we'd only just found each other. In the courtyard with the soft sun, you on your knees in the grass, playing with a mabari. And I, standing there, gathered dog treats in my hand. I had not known why. But I'd picked them up all the same, wondering if they'd been lost, and your mabari came running. And you teased me about bribing him for affection while he slobbered all over my hand. My right hand. Had he known something even then? Did he avoid it on purpose?_

Ziva shut her eyes against the tears that pricked. Cullen shook his head wordlessly, arms dropping to crush her frame to his. It was as though he thought the press of his body could somehow isolate the mark, render them safe. Ziva trembled faintly, breath coming short as she unlinked her arms and clutched at him, burying her face in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. She would remember it all her days, this scent of warm musk and leather, sunshine and clean sweat. Oakmoss and elderflower. She felt Cullen's throat work as he swallowed, cheek pressed to her temple, nuzzling at her hair. She felt his arms tremble, too.

It should've been over. It would've been time. Ferelden pressure notwithstanding, she still would've disbanded the Inquisition, because it was _over_. Corypheus was gone, the Breach was closed, the rifts distant memories. They would not stand again as an organised body - for how could they? Corruption had indeed sunk in, as was inevitable, and Ziva would not suffer the Inquisition - _their_ Inquisition - to be turned into a mockery of what it stood for. Their victories had been bought at a cost too dear for it to risk going down so ignominously in history. No, better to end it now. The heart of the Inquisition could continue, away from the public eye. Just them, them and their contacts. There was nothing in the books that said the bonds of war had to lie fallow in the battlefield once victory had been earned.

Oh, she should've known better.

_The Inquisition is laid to rest; yet, long live the Inquisition._

Josephine drifted softly over to them, board laid aside for once, anguish on her face as she reached for Ziva, a wordless cry locked in her throat. Leliana clasped Cullen's shoulder, offering support.

"I don't know how long I have," Ziva whispered to them. Cullen's embrace tightened, almost to the point of suffocation. Leather squeaked faintly. "But I know this - I will not stop until we get to the bottom of this. The eluvians, the Qunari, the invasion. This _Mark_. I _will_ get my answers."

Leliana inclined her head, eyes burning with determination. Cullen relinquished his hold just long enough for Ziva to turn to Josephine, throwing her arms around the shaking Antivan diplomat. She pressed soft kisses to Josephine's cheeks, stemming the flow of quiet tears.

"Do what you must. Inform who you will. Someone _must_ know - in the event something happens. They have the right to know. Send word to Vivienne and Dorian - I would speak with them about seeing to this mark. Perhaps we can come up with something. But give me an hour... no, two. I - I have some matters to tend to."

"As you wish. We are here for you, Ziva," Leliana replied quietly. She reached for Josephine's elbow just as Ziva stepped back from the upset woman, steering her away with a subtle grace. "Come, Josie. A word before I speak to my agents?"

Ziva watched them depart, Cullen's hand tightening on the small of her back. A short, sharp pulse spiked through her hand, and she curled her fingers into a fist with a convulsive gesture. Each heartbeat seemed to throw leaden weights on all her limbs. She turned to Cullen, afraid of what she would see.

Cullen stood crimson and gold, a tawny lion gilded by candlelight, and the mourning of a king on his beautiful face. "How long?" he rasped out, eyes burning into hers. Ziva's mouth set in a grim line that she tried to soften for him. 

"Long enough," she ground out. She lifted her clenched fist, and green washed over them both in a sickly flare of colour. "Or too long, perhaps. Solas once said this was killing me, tied as it was to the Breach. We thought - so long as the Breach was gone, it could, would stabilise. That it flares up so - Cullen, something must be happening. Something is happening. I don't know what it is, but oh, I _swear_ \- "

"Ziva," he cut in, grasping her shoulders. "Maker's breath, wife. I - there - _time_ ," he stammered out. "Time. There wasn't even - blessed Maker, I've not even taken you home, yet. My parents, my siblings, and I - " and there he stalled, heartbroken, kissing her fiercely. His hands scraped up her flanks, then down, gripping her hips in a possessive gesture that sent her heart fluttering.

"One last mission, Cullen. Just once more unto the breach," she gasped out, head tipped up to his mouth. "Just - just once more. I must see this through. I _have_ to."

He shook his head, eyes swimming. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. The Exalted Council should've run its course, and then - then, we would've have retired to live our lives in peace. Doing what good we could. Perhaps - and perhaps, even, some day, some - bright and lovely day, we might have children - children with your lovely hair and your golden eyes," he said, walking her backwards until Ziva's back fetched up against a tapestry-covered wall. Cullen's voice was raw with emotion, his lean frame quivering with it. "Oh, Ziva."

She ran the fingers of her right hand up his back, revelling in its breadth and strength. Her heart broke, and broke again, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Ziva curved her hand over the nape of his neck, swept her fingers into his hair. "We can still have that, Cullen. We _can_. No, we _will_ , husband mine. I swear, I swear, I _swear_ ," she murmured, seeking out his mouth again to devour, sealing promises against his scarred lips.

The bittersweet irony of it all was sheer perfection. Here he stood, her husband, a man formerly leashed by lyrium. Each day he passed without it was a day that could either slip him an inch more freedom, or outright kill him. And there she was, his wife - a woman so entangled with magic that was not hers, magic that was unstable - magic that was killing her just about as slowly as lyrium could kill her husband. Ziva couldn't help the laugh as it emerged weak and watery from her mouth, as she broke away for air.

"Maker's breath, Cullen. Look at us. Lyrium and the mark." She shook her head, muffling a soft giggle with her hand while a freshet of tears coursed over her cheeks. "I love you. I love you so much - but here we stand and we are _dying_."

Cullen's weight bore down on her, pinning her to the wall. He bent his head, pressing his lips to her cheeks, kissing away the tears. "My love, whatever happens - I cherish the time we have, and the time we've had together. And I - would never give it up for the world. My wife. You're my wife. Radiant no matter where you go."

A man dying. He looked exactly like a man dying, and he would never see it. Ziva kissed him hard, hoping to wipe away that tortured, hopeless expression from his face. "I swear, husband, I swear. I promise - I keep my promises. I will come back to you," she murmured. Ziva curled her right arm about him, clumsy, almost frustrated, but he went willingly when she pulled him down to her neck. She couldn't bear to touch him with that wicked, tainted hand of hers. Once it stood for hope, but now it brought no joy.

He skimmed his lips over her skin, once, twice, then broke off to lock the door. Heeding some unspoken mutual agreement, Ziva moved over to the table, rubbing her arms to soothe herself, then reaching up to take down her hair. It cascaded down her back as she fluffed it out, having grown in the two years since she'd thought to really cut it. Then there was simply the electric sense of movement at her back and Cullen loomed over her, pressing her hips to the table and dropping kisses over her wild mane of hair.

"When this is over," he whispered into the shell of her ear, voice pitched low in the way she loved, "when all is said and done, we'll go. We'll spend a month, two months, in the smallest, sweetest cabin by the lake, in all of Ferelden." Cullen's hands wrapped over her hips, palmed her belly. Ziva slid a hand down the front of her attire, unfastening button after button, unhooking her belts and sashes to bare her skin to him. "We'll ride and teach Dog how to dodge fireballs, teach him new tricks."

"All that and more, Cullen," she whispered back, grinding against him. When she heard his breath hitch, when her own heart raced at the touch of his hand over her skin, Ziva turned in his arms and hoisted herself up onto the table, sweeping the papers aside. "Two children," she promised, wrapping her legs around his hips, drawing him in. Cullen growled, deep in his chest, surging in for another kiss. "A boy," she gasped. "And a girl."

"Come back to me, then."

"I promise," she whispered again, arching into him. "I _promise_."


End file.
